The Longest Hour
by raiko.EXE
Summary: Would it have killed them to be a little more discreet? — Snow x Lightning and a conflicted Hope; Mature Content.


Hope awakens one night on the plains to the sound of heavy breathing and the shuffling of dry grass and leaves. He's on high alert when he remembers just how dangerous the resident beasts of the steppe are, but he can't bring himself to investigate just yet. For now, he remains quiet and listens, reminding himself that Fang's never let anything slip past her watch.

"Shut up, they'll hear."

Lightning.

"Relax, would you? Sazh and the kids are heavy sleepers."

Snow.

"And besides, whose fault would _that_ be anyway?" the blonde adds for good measure before emitting what seemed to be a stifled groan.

Hope practically stops breathing, putting two and two together through the rustle of blankets and clothing and the whispers that accompany them. The young boy forces his eyes shut, desperately trying to block out the sounds and images his brain is illustrating for them.

"_Fuck_, Light," Snow pants, and the suggestive sounds that follow are enough kill Hope's resolve entirely. He pictures a head of pink bobbing between a pair of tanned thighs with feminine nails biting into the ropes of toned muscle. His blood flows towards the juncture between his legs and the youth bites his lip in unwilling concentration. "If you do it like that I'm gonna –"

There's a wet pop. "Don't you _dare_, Snow," Lightning hisses indignantly, met by a breathless laugh.

"Hurry up and turn around then," Snow suggests, and Hope can practically see the shit-eating grin on the hero's face and Lightning's ensuing eye roll before he picks up the rustling of clothes and compliance. Hope briefly wonders how many times they've pulled this stint over the course of their journey. Last time he checked, Lightning just barely tolerated Snow's presence in the group, not to mention the fact that he was engaged to her _sister_. How did they ever manage to –

"_Hard_," Lightning orders with brisk need. Hope feels his throat run dry.

"Yes, ma'am," Snow croons wickedly, and there's a heavy pause before a pair of suppressed gasps cuts through the air. There's heavy panting and curses of affirmation against the crunch of the natural brush. In his mind, Lightning is on her knees, chest forced against the ground as her gloved fingers grasping at the soft underground of the blanket as she looks back. They haven't shed all of their clothes, but rather just enough, and the young boy is feeling rather envious as he squirms painfully against the fabric of his pants.

Hope's own fists are curled tight in order to resist the urge to satiate himself, and he prays to the goddess that they'll finish soon. But in an instant, his internal qualms are interrupted by the feeling of warmth pressed flush against his back.

"Oh, those two have got me all hot and bothered," Vanille's voice whispers into his ear, hips wriggling dangerously against his clothed behind. He vaguely picks up on the distinct lack of pelt and beads and swallows.

"Think you can help me out, Hope?" she asks innocently enough as her slender arm wraps itself around his waist, hand beginning to play with the growing bulge between his legs.

"Vanille, wha – ah!" he chokes as he feels her tongue lave against the shell of his ear, trailing its way to the sensitive flesh of the lobe before being replaced by a tentative set of teeth. His mind shuts down and his face turns hot as she makes quick work of his fly, slipping her digits below the elastic of his boxers to stroke him.

By the time Snow and Lightning are sleeping and spent, Hope is suppressing a groan of his own as Vanille takes him into her mouth with a surprising amount of skill. She curls a tight fist around whatever she can't fit into her mouth as his fingers dig moon-shaped welts into her pert ass with a force almost hard enough to bruise. Hope can feel her pleased hum reverberate against his shaft and echo through his bones as he presses his face into her dripping cunt. Her earthy scent is driving him wild, tongue ravishing the slick flesh of her sex as she mewls sweet sounds that only encourage him further.

He certainly hopes this won't be the last time they do this.

.

.

.

.

.

From his position in camp – back turned to the rest – Sazh Katzroy cracks open a tired eye and sighs. His tiny chocobo companion can't sleep either, it seems, and it emerges from the brambles of his hair to look at him questioningly, wearily.

"Damn kids."

.

.

.

.

.

* * *

Blame the insomnia and my love for these pairings for this little absurdity. I also needed some practice in writing smut, since it's been forever. Please spare a review if you feel so inclined!


End file.
